


But All I Want Is You

by emef



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Intimacy, Magic, Multi, Mystery, OT3, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emef/pseuds/emef
Summary: We each sat in a different corner of Sebastian’s bedroom with a pen and paper, and chose a theme. I wanted to do rainy days, but Sam spoke up first.“Soul mates.”





	But All I Want Is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



> Thank you so much for this request, Sunspot! I loved loved loved your words/phrases/quotes/lyrics as prompts. I hope you like this story!

Sam’s never really looked at me that way, but Sebastian has. The first time I saw that look in anyone’s eyes it came from him, and I’m pretty sure it was only for a moment, but it felt like a long time. I didn’t understand what it was.

We’d been spending the summer daring each other to go into the mines. That day, Sam had gotten his hair cut, it was really short, we’d been teasing him that we couldn’t recognize him anymore, that maybe he wasn’t him anymore. Sam kept giggling because he could tell we thought his new hair looked really, really good, and we kept going, we said that maybe he was actually someone from the city, someone who saw us at the Fair and decided to infiltrate our group by pretending to be him. He was laughing harder and harder, falling down on the grass, and seeing him laugh made _us_ laugh. Sebastian and I keeled over next to him, in the long grasses by the river, where it always grows a bit funny near the entrance to the mines. I kept adding to the story, wondering aloud whether he really had gotten his hair cut, whether it was just a wig, and he was going to dramatically remove it to reveal that what he’d really done was dye his hair purple (I hadn’t told them yet but purple hair had been all I could think about since I’d seen it in a magazine Sam and Sebastian had stolen for me once) and that got Sebastian trying to touch his hair. But once he got his hands on it he kept running his hands over Sam’s hair; he couldn’t stop touching it, he said, it felt like a really really soft brush, and that made Sam giggle harder. And that’s when it happened. Sebastian, on top of Sam by now, straddling him really, his hands in Sam’s hair, looked at me. Looked at me like that.

They didn't let us into the saloon back then and it used to make us so mad. It wasn’t like they cared about our safety, I mean, they didn't even ask us where we were going half the time, and when they did they didn't check. Once, all three of us fell asleep in Sam’s bedroom, and not only did my parents and Sebastian’s parents not notice — _Sam’s_ parents didn't notice. We never stopped to wonder whether they were clueless or didn't care, or if there was something else going on, we were just angry. Sam and Sebastian really wanted to try the pool table! The only pool table in town, which was in the saloon! Why wouldn’t they let us in?

Sebastian would always get the angriest. “It’s not fair! It’s _not fair_!” He would repeat it, louder and louder, until we put our arms around him and talked him down from his rage, holding him close. Sam would whisper “shhhhh, I know, man, I know” while I pulled him into a hug, kissed his temple, and stroked his hair.

Sebastian and Sam grew taller while I stayed the same size but we still comforted Sebastian the same way when he got angry, or we tried to. At first I got up on the tips of my toes to kiss Sebastian’s brow, always in the same spot, and to run my fingers through his hair — it grew longer as he grew taller and every time I touched it he always seemed so happy — but then the height difference between us was too much and I couldn’t reach anymore. Sam was the one to figure out a solution:

“Let’s switch,” he whispered.

So I went around and held Sebastian like the little spoon. I mouthed the words “shhhhhhh, I know, I know” into the space between his shoulder blades, while Sam went around to face him. He held out both hands to run them through Sebastian’s hair, and then moved closer, kissed his temple, and wrapped his arms around both of us.

Sam used to talk about Penny. He kind of had to, since he’d always spend time with her at the luau, and afterwards we always asked him what they talked about. Always that one day, every year, he’d go off alone with her. Like it had been scheduled somehow. So he would tell us everything he said, and then everything she answered.

Whenever Sam talked about Penny, he talked like he has no choice but to marry her, one day.

“I guess that’s true,” I would answer, because I guessed it was.

We started writing poetry because of Sam’s little brother. He’d gone into Elliott’s house when they were at the beach one day. Nobody noticed he’d done that until they got home and Vincent (that's Sam's little brother's name) took some folded up paper out of his pocket and it turned out to be pages out of Elliott’s notebook. Sam couldn’t bring himself to rat out his little brother so he kept the pages, and he brought it to Sebastian’s house and showed us. Six pages of poetry that I tried to appreciate but couldn’t, and I must have been so impatient that day because I remember blurting out “ _even I_ could write a better poem than that.”

Just like that, poetry became our activity that day. We each sat in a different corner of Sebastian’s bedroom with a pen and paper, and chose a theme. I wanted to do rainy days, but Sam spoke up first.

“Soul mates.”

We spent what felt like a long time writing, but when it was time to share I’d discarded so many of my ideas that in the end my poem was very short. It went like this:

_All that we cannot harness or control  
Wonder and power and forces of nature  
And the way that I feel when we are together_

Sebastian’s was even shorter, it went:

_I want something that doesn’t exist._

And we never found out what Sam wrote. He said he didn’t want us to read it. So I took one of my discarded poem ideas, gave it to him, and said it would be Sam’s poem. It went like this:

_I tried keeping my soul separate  
But all I want is you_

When things changed, at first, it was little things. We’d gotten bold with our exploring, and we went into the tunnel by the farm, the one that goes to the desert. We walked and walked and suddenly we couldn’t go any further, but not because we were tired or because there was something in the way. We just couldn’t go any further.

The next day the farmer gave me a piece of quartz and I was telling them it looked delicious before I even realized what I was doing. The truth is, the farmer was acting pretty weird, I mean, he walked up and handed me a crystal, but that doesn't explain why I answered something essentially nonsensical. Not to mention that Sam and Sebastian were standing right next to me but the farmer didn’t say hello or even acknowledge them.

When the farmer left I put the piece of quartz in my pocket, and Sebastian said, “Have you noticed that the scythes farmers use aren't sharp?”

“You’ve been touching the farmer’s scythe?” Sam picked up Sebastian’s hand to inspect it.

“No, I mean, I didn't mean to. I was on the mountain, and the farmer was there, all of a sudden, and they used the scythe out to cut down a sapling with it. But I was standing right there so I felt the blade. I was so scared, for a second, but then it turned out not to be sharp. It didn't even hurt.”

“But how could it cut down the sapling if it wasn't sharp?”

A few days later I asked Sebastian where his mom gets the materials she sells in her shop every day. I’d noticed that she sold wood and stone and that she seemed to have an infinite amount of them, but I’d never been able to see where she got them. Or where she stored them.

He said he didn’t know, that she talked about chopping trees but he’d never seen her do it. I asked him but the truth was that I didn’t actually want to know, I was just trying to make conversation. It was just him and me by ourselves in his bedroom, that time, which didn’t happen often. Sam wasn’t around because he had an appointment at the clinic.

Sebastian sat at his computer while I sat on his bed, and we waited for Sam’s appointment to finish. When Sam finally showed up he stood in the doorway and talked about Penny again, about how he’d have to marry her one day, and all of a sudden I wondered whether it really was Sebastian I wanted. Every time Sam talked about Penny I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the idea of him not being around any more.

I wanted Sebastian. The way he looked at me made me feel something. I didn't know how to describe what he made me feel but I liked it, I liked it so much. I was scared of losing it I liked it so much. All I wanted was for him to look at me and hold my hand.

But Sebastian didn’t do that. What he did was get up and sit next to me on his bed. And then Sam was moving forward and sitting next to _him_. Their feet were touching, and Sam’s thigh was pressed up against Sebastian’s. And all of a sudden I thought: I want Sebastian, but that’s not all. Maybe I want Sam to watch, as well.

I’d heard about exhibitionism (and voyeurism) because a farmer brought a pair of shorts to the annual Luau to put them in the soup. The shorts belonged to the mayor, and the farmer had found them in Marnie’s bedroom. That’s how we found out that the Mayor and Marnie were involved, but we also found out something else: several townspeople, not just the farmer, had run into the Mayor and Marnie in various public places. And during the commotion at the Luau it was plain to see that the Mayor was enjoying the incident, and anyway, long story short, that’s how I learned the word “exhibitionist.”

So I started to think that that was what I was. I’d been watching Sebastian beat Sam at pool, I’d turned to see Sam watching me, and felt something very strong, and I thought: I’m a voyeur. Or an exhibitionist? Or both, I didn’t know. But for weeks, after that, every time I saw him I hoped Sebastian was the same was I was, and that we could be together one day while somebody — hopefully Sam — watched us.

That winter it snowed for three days and when it was over the snow went up to our knees. We made huge snow castles in front of Sebastian’s house — well, Sam and I made snow castles while Sebastian built a seven foot snow-goon to tower over them — and when we got bored of that we went up to the railroad and tried to race each other in the fresh snow. It was hard, like trying to walk quickly in shallow water, we kept falling, and Sebastian never used to like playing outside but on that day his cheeks were bright red his eyes were shining and we tried to make a snow-Sebastian by covering him with snow but it didn’t work because he couldn’t stop laughing.

When the sun went down Sam and I stopped inside Sebastian’s house to warm up before walking to town, Demetrius was there waiting by the door. He demanded Sebastian remove the snow-goon he’d built. Sebastian was angry, so angry, we could see it from the set of his shoulders, but he didn’t say anything. He just headed outside and kicked the snow-good until it was just a pile of snow, while Demetrius watched through the window. Sam held my hand.

A few nights later, when the moon was bright enough, Sam and I snuck up to the mountain and built the snow-goon again. We kept talking about how happy we hoped Sebastian would be, and every time Sam’s hand touched mine I hoped Sebastian would know how it had felt to make this for him. We looked up at the moon together, and Sam asked,

“Where does the light come from?”

“Um, I think the moon reflects the light of the sun…”

“No, I mean, the light that’s in lamps. Where does that light come from?”

The next day was a Sunday, and I spent most of it in the forest. I’d started standing near the Wizard’s Tower, staring out at the trees, sensing that there was something out there that I wanted, maybe that I needed. Enjoying the weather. Thinking about adventures.

On that Sunday, instead of heading home after being in the forest, I went to Sam and convinced him to go to the spa, and then we went together to Sebastian to go with us. We knew we could go if we wanted - the spa was never closed.

We set out from Sebastian’s house, in the winter quiet and darkness. When we were out of sight of the house, Sam - walking between Sebastian and me - reached out reached out and took my hand in his. And then he took Sebastian’s hand. We didn’t talk.

They went into the men’s changing room and I went into the women's. I imagined them taking their clothes off together, Sebastian’s pale skin almost blueish under the neon lights in locker room, Sam carefully looking away. Or maybe not? Maybe he acted really different when I wasn't there. No one in town did it, but sometimes the farmers were men who married other men or women who married other women, so I knew it could happen. Maybe Sam wanted Sebastian just as much as I did. Maybe they wanted to give each other gifts and hug. Maybe they even wanted to kiss.

When I walked out of the changing room, we all started wading in to the water. Sam’s bathing suit was brown with a blue line, like the clothes he wears every day, and Sam’s was black. The two of them didn't look like they'd been kissing each other moments before. They were standing very, very close, and they looked flushed, but they were looking at me. I was wearing a bathing suit the same colour as my hair.

The water was hot. It felt amazing, and I started to wonder how come we don't have spas at home, because it would be nice to have this feeling every day. It would be nice, I thought, to have something like a sink for washing dishes, except big enough to wash our bodies. A sink you could fill with hot water, like a one-person spa, just big enough to fit your body in every day.

I was about to share this observation with Sam and Sebastian when Sebastian touched my hand. “Abigail?”

“Yeah?” I answered, looking down at his hand. It was really warm.

“Do you want to hug?”

“Ok.” I held my arms up towards him.

“No, like. Both of us.”

I froze, both arms in the air. “What?”

“I mean…” Sebastian looked at Sam. “I mean all three of us… hug together?”

“Oh.”

Every time we’d ever hugged, all three of us together, it had always been Sebastian in the middle. But this time it wasn’t, it was me in the middle. Sebastian took both of my hands in his, twirled me around in the water, and then put my arms around Sam. Then he ran his hands over my shoulders and my arms, until his hands were on top of my hands, and we were both holding Sam tight. My head was resting against Sam’s chest, Sebastian was clinging to both of us, and I’d never felt so safe in my entire life.

Then Sam kissed me. He kissed the top of my head, and I guess he’d never done that before. I was so surprised that I loosened my hold on him, and then Sebastian was moving back as well. He didn’t move away completely, just enough that Sam had the space to cradle my head in both his hands. I looked up at him, at his bright pink cheeks and blue eyes and damp, straw coloured hair, and I got up on the tips of my toes. I wanted to be closer to him, and I think he could tell, because he leaned down. And then he kissed me on the mouth.

When he kissed me he groaned softly, and I realized I wasn’t so much breathing as gasping for air, like I’d run all the way from the ocean to the railroad without stopping. Sam barely moved, he just brushed his lips against mine, back and forth, but then Sebastian was putting his hands on my hips, just below the water. When I felt him kiss my neck, I moaned so loudly that we were all startled.

“ _Oh._.”

“Abigail.” Sam pulled back and looked deep into my eyes.

“Abigail, please.” Sebastian added, sounding strangled.

“I didn’t know this was allowed.”

“I guess it isn't,” Sam said, and I left the spa without them.

In the end, it was M. Rasmodius who helped me. Who helped _us_. He has seen many things about all our futures from studying the spirit worlds and the following Sunday, when I was standing outside his tower, he came out to speak to me.

“Abigail, is there a question for which you would like an answer?”

He seemed very earnest, like he was hoping for a specific question. I know, now, what it was. But at the time, there was only one thing on my mind.

“How is it that the farmer’s scythe cuts but is not sharp?”

The one thing on my mind wasn't the farmer’s scythe, but I felt sure, so sure, that my worries had something to do with its odd behaviour.

“Because that is the rule.”

“What do you mean?”

“To build this world, a set of rules were needed. That is one of them. The wheat that is ready for harvest will feel the scythe’s blade but you will not.”

I heard his words but it took a long time to truly understand them. But when I grasped their implication I was overwhelmed.

“Is there…” I faltered.

“What do you need to know?”

And then the question spilled out, like I’d been holding back the words for so long that they couldn’t bear to remain unsaid anymore. “Is there a rule for marriage?”

“Yes.” The Wizard said, and suddenly I wanted to cry. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it, not really, but now that I had asked the question and couldn’t hide from the truth, I finally knew how much I wanted it. “You must marry the farmer if the farmer follows all the proper steps. If the farmer chooses another, you must marry Sebastian.”

My heart pounding, feeling as though I was pleading for my life, I asked, “Can I change the rule?”

“You know the rule, now, so yes. You have that power. You cannot change the rule for others, but you can change it for yourself.”

I didn’t rush to find Sam and Sebastian. I didn’t run to them. I thanked The Wizard, and then I walked. And then when we, all three of us, were together, I told them:

“I know what I want, and how much it matters to me.”

We were in the old Joja warehouse. It was vacant by then, but they’d never changed the locks, and Sam still had the key. Sam and Sebastian were standing in front of me, holding hands. Clutching hands, really, fingers interlaced, looking like they were holding on for dear life. They looked the way I’d felt when the Wizard made me think, even if it was only for a moment, that I would have to marry only one person, and that that person would never be Sam, and might not even be Sebastian.

I told them what the Wizard had said.

“I’d do anything to be with you. I love you. I’m in love with you.” It was an understatement. I was - I am - passionately, desperately, helplessly, in love with them. “I think we are in love, and I think you would both marry me and each other if you could. Wouldn’t you? If I’m wrong, tell me I’m wrong.”

They looked at each other. Sam spoke first. “You’re not wrong.” He said, rushing forward.

I know now that I started noticing things - things like what I said to the farmer - because I am part magic. Sam and Sebastian began having similar experiences because I love them. And the feeling is mutual, which is something they showed me - graphically - on the floor of the Joja warehouse.

Sebastian kissed me first because Sam already had and it was only fair, he said, because the truth was that he and Sam had already kissed once, when I’d abruptly left the spa without them. Sebastian had had a panic attack and Sam’s idea had been to kiss him to make the panic stop. It had worked. They told me this after the kiss, while Sebastian helped me push Sam onto the floor and pull Sam’s clothes off. Finally I felt able to tell them: “I’ve wanted to do this for _so long_.”

Sam’s skin was smooth and golden and Sebastian got on top of him, straddled him, while we kissed. I touched myself and thrust my tongue in his mouth while Sebastian thrust his and Sam’s erections together and we panted and writhed on the floor until we collapsed.

It was a revelation. No, wait, that’s not right. We spent our whole lives up to that point with just one set of options, with these game mechanics and this worldbuilding. _Revelation_ isn't strong enough a word to explain what it was like to find out that we could make up our own rules.

THE END


End file.
